


this is not my heart

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: F/M, Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:06:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to <i>ruin</i> her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is not my heart

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really know. This is just stupid.
> 
> Before, I start this, I need to talk about a few things. Yes, while this may take place in 2011, I’ve made some adjustments: mainly, Miley still has her twitter. I do _not_ dislike her (I actually quite adore Miley), this is all in good fun, and I only wrote this because this idea has been swimming around in my head forever, and I’ve recently gotten back into P!ATD fanfic. Also, I adore Gabe. I really, truly do. I think he’s wonderful, and I mean no harm in writing him like this. Please remember I wrote him like this simply for the story; I don’t actually hate him. Fall Out Boy is still together. And, lastly, everyone lives near each other because it’s just easier that way, so there. So. With all that in mind, enjoy.

William Beckett flops down onto his couch with a smirk and a magazine in hand.  His tall thin limbs fold as he moves, and his ankle rests on his knee as he dumps the ‘zine on his black-haired friend’s lap sitting next to him.

 

“Page seventeen,” he says, brown eyes twinkling.

 

Gabriel Saporta shoots him a pointed, honey look before thumbing lazily through the pages until he stops on a girl, one arm touching the stage as her back bends, long brown curls tumbling around her, and a mic in her hand.

 

“I’m going to _ruin_ her.”

 

Gabe stares at the photograph for a few moments before he catches sight of the caption: _Miley Cyrus_.  “Dude, she’s underage.”

 

“Not anymore,” William sings, arching an eyebrow before reaching for the remote, “She sent me a reply on twitter.  Rather suggestive.”

 

Gabe rolls his eyes as he flips the magazine closed.  “Is this gonna end like _No Strings Attached_?”

 

William snorts unceremoniously before turning off the TV and straightening.  “ _No way_ are you comparing that brown bag to Natalie fucking Portman.  Plus, I’m _way_ better looking than Kutcher.”

 

“Why’d you turn off the telly?”

 

“Wanna fuck?”

 

“Okay.”

 

\--

 

It’s never like this with Gabe.  They fuck, always rough, and then Gabe goes to sleep or leaves.  They never cuddle, never have.

 

William plays with insanely soft strands of dark brown hair, smiling when the small man in his arms hums happily.  He turns, and William smiles wider when he presses a soft kiss to his shoulder.  A pair of chocolate eyes meet his, and he just runs a thumb over Brendon Urie’s pronounced cheekbone before leaning down to kiss him.  He hasn’t told him yet about Miley, and that thought tugs at him as they part and Brendon just smiles and snuggles closer to him.

 

“Bren,” he whispers, carding his fingers through the singer’s dark hair, “Bren, I have to leave today.”  He’s been at his house for almost a week now, and he knows Gabe is going to start wondering where he’s been; not to mention he has a date with Miley tonight.  “Bren, I’m sorry.”

 

“What are you sorry for?” he asks, pushing up onto his elbows and looking down at him, “Is everything okay?”

 

“I have a date tonight.”

 

Brendon’s face falls a little, but not dramatically.  William sighs.  The first time they ever had dinner together, he and Brendon, he’d very carefully told him that he didn’t plan on giving up Gabe, even though he couldn’t stand him most times, and he was a slut, so he shouldn’t expect some kind of committed relationship.  Brendon had been sad, but he’d understood, and they hadn’t had sex that night.  In fact, they hadn’t for some time, but they kept going on these dates and acting cute and _holding hands_.  Most of the time, William just loves to be _with_ Brendon, regardless of what they’re doing, and he knows that they’re in a relationship, even if not a healthy one, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

 

“Who with this time?” Brendon asks, moving back off his elbows and lying against William.

 

“Uh, actually,” and William smirks; he hasn’t told Brendon about this yet, “I’m kind of fucking with someone.”  Brendon is on his elbows again and arching a curious eyebrow.  “Well, you saw my at reply the other day on twitter.”  Brendon nods, and he nods.

 

“You’re fucking with _Miley Cyrus_?  What are you gonna do?” Brendon laughs.

 

“She needs to be taught a lesson.  After that shit with Pete, and, I mean, you _saw_ that reply, right?”

 

“Yea, I was gonna ask you about that.  She was totally word sexting.”

 

“Essentially.”

 

They fall silent after that, and they lay together for a little while until William’s phone rings, and he groans, throwing his hand over to Brendon’s nightstand.  There’s a text from Miley sitting there.  “I have to go soon,” William whispers, not reading the text, and Brendon just sighs and stretches, causing William to smile.  “You’re such a cat.”  He kisses him softly before swinging his legs off the bed and hunting for his red briefs.

 

After he’s got those on, he goes to search for nice clothes to wear.  He finally decides on tight, dark grey skinnies topped with a white button-up, black suspenders over that, a thin black tie, and an even darker grey cardigan v-neck that he folds his white sleeves over at the wrist.  Brendon is just pulling on a shirt over his, of course, Batman briefs (“You’re such a child,” William interjects playfully) when he sits again to lace on his hightop black and white Converse.  He’s feeling lazy and forgoes the contacts, instead just pushing his thick-rimmed, large square glasses onto his nose.  Brendon cards his fingers through his brown hair, making it nice before he goes to pack his clothes for him.

 

“Are you going back to Gabe tonight?” he asks quietly, fiddling with the tie on William’s duffle as he tosses on his black leather jacket.

 

“Yea,” he responds sadly, “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.  Uhm, just… I mean… call me before you come over again,” he finally finishes in a rush, not meeting his eyes, “I might be busy.”

 

William looks down, screwing his eyes shut.  He knows he’s getting to this point with Brendon, this point where he’s going to lose him, and he knows he has to make a decision, knows what that will be.  He just doesn’t have the balls to do it.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, and he knows Brendon hears him, but neither of them moves for almost a full minute.

 

“You need to leave,” Brendon finally says, and William just takes his duffle and walks out on the closest thing to happiness in his life.

 

\--

 

He gets to the restaurant early, just something simple he went to with Brendon one time, and he props himself up on the hood of his car, a cigarette balanced between his fingers.  He’s shaking a little, but it’s not from the light, misting rain or the small chill in the wind.  No, it’s from earlier.

 

“Love,” he growls to himself before taking in a long drag, “Fucking love, Beckett.  What were you thinking?”

 

“That you love him, assface,” the static voice of Alex DeLeon crackles over his cell phone, “Are you still talking to yourself?”

 

“I’m just so confused.  I mean, I thought I loved Gabe.”

 

“Loved, past tense,” Alex reminds, “Ian, c’mere!”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“I am.  Marshall, debrief him on the situation.”

 

“Why is Ian even there?”

 

“Because we’re still friends, and I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

 

“Translation: you had sex this morning.”

 

“So did you.  At least I can go home to Ian, the person I had sex with this morning, and not to my _other_ boyfriend.  You don’t love Gabe.  You love _d_ Gabe.  You loved what he used to be, before all the shit he puts you through now.”

 

“What shit?  William, I heard a really nasty rumor from Sisky the other day,” Ian breaks in, and William sighs as he realizes he’s on speaker, “He said that you came back the other day bleeding and covered in cuts.  He said Gabe did it.  William, is he… is he hurting you?”

 

He sighs, and he listens as Marshall launches into the explanation.  They spend the next half hour talking, the four of them, and William comes out of it feeling much better and quite relieved.  He’s just finishing his second cigarette when a handsome white car pulls up next to him, and he almost chokes.  _Nick Jonas_ is sitting in the driver’s seat.

 

“Thanks, Nick.  I’ll see you next week for rehearsal,” Miley says as she opens the door.

 

“Be careful,” Nick returns, and she leans over to kiss him on the cheek.  As he backs out, William hops off his car and toes out his burnt cigarette.

 

“Hey,” he greets, and Miley waves, coming over to him, “How are you?”

 

“I’m well.  This rain is terrible.  Shall we?  How are you?”

 

She holds out her arm, and he takes it before responding, “I’m okay.  A bit of a rough day, but I’m sure tonight will brighten it.”  She just smiles widely, and he can’t even believe he’s doing this.  “You look beautiful,” he compliments when they sit, and she just blushes and looks down.

 

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

 

She’s wearing this adorable black dress/shirt thing that goes down to her mid-thigh with light jean skinnies underneath.  It’s black, the bottom half horizontally striped red, yellow, brown, and black and the top dotted with golden, small flowers.  A gold necklace hangs down to her tummy, and her brown curls are pulled away from her face with little clips, her bangs framing her face.

 

They work through some small talk while they go through their menus, and, when they break to order drinks and an appetizer, Miley finally brings up the topic of their twitter conversation, “So, about my reply.”

 

William smirks, looking up from his Corona.  He didn’t really want to get beer, not with Miley being so young, but he feels like he’s going to need it after tonight.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” she sighs, smiling bashfully, “I don’t know what had gotten into me.  I mean, I’ve always had this crush on you, and my friends were egging me on, and I just did it, and you’d already responded before I could delete it.”  William looks up at this, on the verge of laughing.  “Stop it,” she chides, but she’s grinning as she nudges him underneath the table, “I have to know, though,” Miley continues, “What made you ask me out on a date?”

  
“You did kind of, well, you know.”

 

“Ha ha,” she mocks, “But really, I mean, I don’t see what was so great.”  Her voice trails off as the waitress arrives, and the two set about ordering.

 

William is just finishing when his phone beeps, and he pulls it out, sliding through the lock combination.  A text from Gabe sits there.

 

_wat the fuck is going on?  y was ur ass leavin uries house today?  i thought we talked about this._

He sighs, palming his face, and Miley just stares across the table at him.

 

_We’ll talk about it when I get home.  I’m busy._

_where the fuck r u?_ comes the instant response.

 

_Out on a date._

He shuts his phone off after that, and Miley lifts an eyebrow.

 

“It’s nothing, sorry.  My friend is just a little angry right now.  So—” and their conversation took off from there, delving into a date William actually enjoyed.

 

\--

 

William doesn’t go home to Gabe.  Instead, he drives Miley back to her place where he kisses her on the cheek at her doorway and heads to Adam’s house where he technically lives but never stays.  When he pushes through the door, however, it’s dark and no one is home.  The ring of a speaker phone fills the empty silence, and William doesn’t even bother turning on the lights as he sits on the couch and pulls his knees to his chest.

 

“How was your date?” Brendon finally picks up.

 

“Really fun, surprisingly.  Listen, Bren, I’m sorry.  For everything.  I’ve been treating you like shit, and I haven’t been giving you my full attention.  I… I don’t know what’s going on in my head right now.”

  
“Just forget it, Bill,” he cuts him off, and William frowns; he can practically taste the frustration.

 

“I just want to make it up to you.  I haven’t been fair at all.  I—”

 

“It comes down to this,” Brendon cuts him off again, “I hate being your _other_ guy.  I’m not going anywhere, at least not for a little while longer, but you’re wearing me thin.  I have to go.  Spencer’s beeping in, and, right now, he’s more important than you.”

 

He doesn’t even wait for a response before hanging up, and William just lets the phone slip from his fingers, his forehead falling to his knees.  He hates to cry, but he’s alone, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to hide even from himself.

 

\--

 

William jolts awake, limbs shaking.  His mind is still swimming with the nightmare, and the lights are on.  The lights are on.  He repeats this statement a few times in his head before tossing his head back and forth a few times before pushing himself up on his elbows and looking around.  Gabe is in the kitchen, just a few steps up from the living room, _drinking_.

 

“Damn it,” he hisses before scooting back and arching an eyebrow over at Gabe.  “What’re you doing here?” he tries to ask casually, but then Gabe _chucks_ his beer bottle against the counter opposite him, and William flinches.

 

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?” he screams, stalking across the kitchen and toward him.  William scrambles up off the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his hurry.  He opens his mouth to speak, but Gabe beats him there, “Where have you been?  Off fucking Urie again?  Don’t even give me that look!” he interrupts when William frowns, “I’m not stupid, _Beckett_!  I know what you’ve been up to, but you could have at least _tried_ to cover it up, but no, of course not!  You stay with him for a fucking week!”

 

He doesn’t give William a chance to respond.  No, instead he puts one hand on the back of the couch and vaults over it, jumping back onto his feet and throwing his fist wildly toward William.  He ducks before tackling Gabe around the waist.

 

“Just fuck me,” he grinds out, shoving Gabe’s shoulders into the couch, “Just fuck me and get it over with.”

 

“What, you don’t want a little rough play?” Gabe growls, pushing William off of him and sending the tall vocalist tumbling onto the ground.

 

He kicks over the coffee table before grabbing one belt loop and yanking William off of his back and spinning him onto his stomach.  William grunts, and he’s about to push off the ground when Gabe’s weight drops onto his thighs.

 

“Gabe,” he starts, but the older man just grabs his brown hair and shoves him back toward the carpet.

 

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut.  Did you go on a date with Urie, was that it?”

 

William gasps as Gabe rips his skinnies down, not bothering with the belt, and he can feel a tear in his skin slice open along his hip from his buckle.

 

“Gabe,” he tries again, attempting to squirm away from his touch.

 

“Or was it someone else?  Miley, wasn’t it?  You said you wanted to fuck with her.  I can’t believe you’re actually going to.”

 

He can _hear_ Gabe’s zipper slip down, can _hear_ the button pop, and he pushes up on his palms again only to have two hands come crashing down on either side of his head.  His vision goes fuzzy, and the hands retreat.  He sinks back to the ground, dizzy and feeling nauseous.

 

“Gabe,” he mumbles, trying to find oxygen for his lungs; his tongue feels thick, and his body is too heavy.

 

“So you’re fucking Brendon,” Gabe pauses, and William screams as he pushes into him, tight, dry muscles searing in pain.  His skin feels like it’s on fire, and he thrashes violently, trying to get away, but Gabe just fists his hair again and holds him against the ground.  He keeps struggling; he feels like he’s going to die.  “You’re fucking Brendon and dating Miley,” he finally says, and there are tears in William’s eyes.  “I fucking hate you.  You’re such a whore.”

 

William’s screams fall on deaf ears, and the next ten minutes feel like an eternity.  When it’s over, he can feel something warm and sticky between his legs, and he knows he’s bleeding.  The front door bangs shut, and he can barely reach for his phone, he’s shaking so bad.

 

“Adam,” he gasps when Siska picks up, “Adam, where are you?”

 

“Fucking far away, man, why?  Do you need me?”

 

He hangs up without answering, and he feels like he’s going to die.  He clicks Alex’s icon on his favorites, and the phone rings and rings and—“Hey gorgeous, what’s up?”

 

“Alex, where are you?”

 

“I was just heading over to Pete’s.  Is everything okay?”

 

“I need your help.”

 

“What’s wrong?  Ian, turn around.  Go to Sisky’s.  You’re at your house, right?”

 

“In the living room.  I can’t move.  I’m hanging up.”

 

Somehow, between leaving Alex wondering and Alex actually showing up, he manages to pull up his skinnies, unzipping and unbuttoning them, and roll onto his side.  Alex bursts through like nobody’s business, Ian not far behind him.

 

“William, what happened?” he gasps, falling to one knee in front of him and pushing his brown bangs out of his eyes.

 

“Gabe,” he mumbles, “Help me up.  Bathroom.”

 

Ian comes to help, and, together, they manage to stumble their way into the bathroom where William lets up his stomach before finally collapsing, body weak and heavy.

 

“I need,” he rasps, trembling, “I need… hospital.”

 

“Ian, stay with him.  I’ll be right back.”  Alex leaves, returning fifteen minutes later with a backpack.  “C’mon, let’s get him up.”  They pile William into the backseat, and it’s a short drive to the hospital where a doctor immediately sees them, forcing Alex and Ian out into the hallway.

 

“I don’t know if I should call Brendon,” Alex murmurs, turning to face Ian and frowning, “I feel like he has a right to know.”

 

“Right behind you, Singer,” a gruff voice says, and the couple turns to find none other than Brendon Urie standing there with a one Miley Cyrus flanking him.

 

“Uh,” Alex begins unsurely, “What is she doing here?”

 

“They’re kind of, sort of dating,” Brendon explains, and he levels the two men with a glare that shuts all of their _but what about you, but what about Gabe_ questions up immediately.

 

“Is he okay?” Miley asks tentatively, aware she doesn’t belong.

 

“We’re not sure.  We only got here a few minutes ago.  Wait,” Ian pauses, “How did _you_ know?” he addresses Brendon.

 

“Beckett texted Miley.  Gabe called me.  So, I DM’d her on twitter because she was freaking out about not having a ride, and I went and picked her up.”

 

“Gabe called you?” Alex repeats, shocked.

 

“Yea,” Brendon sighs, palming his face, “It was quite the conversation.  He told me what happened.  I’ll talk to you about it later.”  They both nod, knowing Miley’s company limits them.  And so they lapse into silence while Brendon turns and stares into the hospital room, unsure, hurt, and worried.

 

\--

 

Four weeks later, William stands with one hand fanned across Brendon’s lower back.  They’re outside a venue, near the back entrance, and Pete is talking their ears off about something, though William’s far too entranced with the beauty of the small man next to him to _really_ pay attention.  Pete’s already called him out once on it, but he’s just left it to smiling at him now.  Everyone keeps doing that, looking at him like he’s glowing or something.  Except, well, he knows he is.  He’s unbelievably happy with Brendon, even if it still is mostly secret.  FBR knows, which means all his best friends know, and that’s all that matters.

 

“So, you’ll never believe this,” Patrick says, erupting from the venue, “We’ve got one hell of a VIP tonight.  I never thought I’d see the likes of _Miley Cyrus_ here.”

 

It happens faster than William expects it to.  Brendon steps nearly a foot away from him as the back door opens again, and Pete looks immediately confused.

 

“Ah, there she is,” Patrick says, waving Miley over.  William feels like his stomach just dropped out.

 

He’s still been talking to Miley, off and on.  They go on dates sometimes, and the public actually thinks there’s something going on.  But they’ve barely made out more than twice, and William is trying his hardest not to lead her on, despite the whole kissing thing.  He just has really come to enjoy her company, and he’s having a hard time admitting that he just wants to be friends when he’s become dangerously attracted to her.  Tonight isn’t helping matters.

 

She’s wearing this torn up and loose black and white splattered vneck over itty bitty shorts that are all frayed and ripped.  These boots like he’s never seen before are laced up past her knees, and she looks _hot_.  Miley tosses her long brown curls over her shoulder so they cascade down her back, and William can’t help it as he greets her with a freaking _kiss on the mouth_.

 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” he says, straightening and smiling.

 

“Yea, Nick bought tickets.”

 

The name rips a flame of jealousy through William before settling in his stomach.  Everytime they go out, if William doesn’t pick her up or drop her off, Nick does.  He’s always there, always waiting for William to fuck up so he can move in.  He knows, even if Nick doesn’t say it, he knows Nick wants her back because he can see the way he looks at her, knows it’s the way _he_ looks at Brendon.

 

Brendon.

 

William turns, and he’s never seen him look so hurt.  He watches as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his ringing phone.

 

“Spence?” he says into it, and he looks relieved, “Yea, I’ll be right in.”

 

“Bren—” William tries, but Brendon shoves past him, bumping into him roughly.

 

“You’re a fucking dickwad,” he growls as he goes by, and Pete seems to be piecing everything together because he punches William in the shoulder.

 

“What the fuck is your problem?” he yells when the back door closes behind Brendon, “What is going on?”

 

“Leave it alone,” Patrick gripes, taking Pete by his forearm because he knows and he’s pissed.

 

When they leave, William feels like he’s going to explode.  He needs to do something reckless.  He needs to get out of her.

 

“Do you really wanna see them tonight?” he asks, turning to Miley.

 

She shrugs.  “I was mostly going to keep Nick company.  I mean, it would be nice, but if you have something else in mind, we could leave.”

 

He just takes her hand and walks off, agony making him walk fast.  She talks until his mind is far away, for which he is immensely glad, and they sing along to every different song as he drives.  They end up at a club where William knows one of the bouncers, and he looks the other way while William slips Miley in.  He never meant for anything to happen the way it did after that.

 

He thought he could monitor Miley’s drinking, could make sure she didn’t go over the top.  He knows she’s tried alcohol before, and he’ll attribute that partially to why he sometimes turned a blind eye, but he knows it’s mostly because he drowns himself because he wants to forget, he doesn’t want to remember anything, and the new Cobra song just came on.  Miley hears it, and they’ve been here too long, but she pulls him away from the dance floor and to a dark corner.

 

“What are we doing?” she purrs, tugging him close to her and arching into his body, melding them together.  He captures her mouth in a dirty, needy kiss, and she responds by fisting her fingers in his hair and kissing back furiously.

 

He remembers only bits and pieces of what happens next, and he knows it’s because of the alcohol and the song, but he definitely knows that Miley pops the button on his jeans just as her shorts fall to the floor.  He doesn’t think.  She doesn’t think.  Miley just moans, and William grips her thighs, pressing her against the wall.  She lifts off the floor, ankles hooking behind him, and he settles her down onto him.

 

This is where he loses some of his memory.  He remembers Miley banging her head back against the wall and moaning loudly, he remembers fucking her harder than he probably should, but she seems to enjoy it, and he remembers his knees almost buckling as he comes fast and seeing stars, banging his fist on the wall beside her head and letting out a guttural groan.  He remembers dropping to his knees as Miley’s feet hit the ground, and he remembers looking her straight in the eye before darting his tongue forward to her wet folds.  He’s too sensitive to touch, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get inside of her a second time.

 

She’s shaky when he finally stands again, and Miley’s eyes are all glazed over and dark, dark blue when she pulls him in for a sloppy kiss.  Gabe’s voice is still singing.  They’re doing a playlist.  William wants to cry suddenly, and he hisses, pulling away from Miley.  He can almost feel him, can feel his hands coming down on either side of his head, can feel him trying to rip him apart, and he wants to ball up and scream.

 

He broke Brendon’s heart in two.

 

Miley notices.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” she says, already reaching for her shorts.

 

She gets dressed, nods at his jeans, and starts off.  He quickly tugs his pants up and follows her, pulling out a cigarette as he goes.  They walk out, he behind her, and he lights up once he’s outside.  He wants a beer.  He wants to die.

 

\--

 

William wakes up somewhere he doesn’t know.  He can smell bacon and possibly pancakes, but his head is thick and heavy, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes.

 

“Beckett’s awake,” he hears, and he _definitely_ doesn’t recognize that voice.

 

“Do you still have Patrick’s number?”

 

“No, but I think Rian has Andy’s.  Wanna call him?”

 

“Let him wake up and eat first, and then we’ll talk to him.”

  
“And then call Andy?”

 

“Yea, whatever.”

 

The two men fall quiet, and William is more than a little afraid.  He’s woken up in places he doesn’t know plenty of times, but never somewhere where people actually _know_ who he is and who he’s friends with.  It’s mildly frightening to him.  And so he sits slowly, rubbing his eyes and holding his head.  Alex freaking Gaskarth is standing before a skillet with a one Jack Barakat sitting on the counter next to him, surfing on a laptop.

 

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Alex says without looking over, “How’re you feeling?”

 

“How did I get here?”

 

“Miley barely managed to mumble out the address to the taxi,” Jack relays, shrugging, “Come get coffee.  We’ll need you coherent.”

 

“For what?” William asks unsurely, but he still gets up and heads over, “And how does Miley know you two?”

 

“She’s my girlfriend, asswipe,” Alex spits out, and William almost falls over.

 

“I thought we were going to wait,” Jack sighs.

 

“Your _girlfriend_?” William repeats, and he feels like he’s suffocating.

 

“Sit down.  I’ll get you coffee, and Alex won’t say another word until you’ve got some food in you.  Alex, swallow that.  Spit in your own pancakes.”  Alex just grumbles something incomprehensible.

 

It’s uncomfortable and tensely silent for the next twenty minutes until Alex slams down a plate in front of him, and William winces.

 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Alex says angrily, sitting across from him.  When William arches a confused eyebrow, he elaborates, “Brendon stopped by because Miley DM’d him.  He really loves you.  Fuck if I know why, but—”

 

“You know damn well why,” Jack interjects, “You’re playing the same game.  You _knew_ Miley was flinging with him.”

 

“Wait, _what_?” William gasps, pulling his mug away from his mouth, “You knew?  Wait, she did this on purpose?”

 

“Yes and no,” Jack sighs, “She’s always had a crush on you, and her and Alex were fighting when she wrote you on twitter that time.  She kept saying it was just going to be one date, and Alex knew how much it meant to her.  And then you guys became, like, _really_ good friends.  I found out before Alex did, and, well, Miley just found out today that we both knew she was, like, more than friends, that she was dating you essentially.  We didn’t know about Brendon until last night, though.  When he showed up, well, I mean, we’ve never met him before, or any of Panic besides that one time we were at an old FBR party and Ryan threw up on Rian’s shoes, but there he was, and he explained everything, even Gabe.  So you can kind of understand why we aren’t choking you out currently.”

 

“I fucking hate you, though,” Alex snaps, “I can’t believe you’d do that to Brendon.  He seems like such a nice kid.”

 

“He is,” William sighs, “He’s the greatest person I’ve ever met, I’ve ever been with.  I don’t… I don’t know why I do the things I do.  I need help.”  It comes out of nowhere, and it shuts Alex and Jack up.  Even William seems a little shocked, but then he feels salty tears burning the corners of his eyes.  “I really do,” he cracks, sniffing, “I need fucking help.  I let Gabe into my life, despite everything he did, and now I’m fucking things up with Brendon.  I’m so sorry, Alex.  If I had known, I never would have gone after her.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

“Oh shit,” Miley’s voice jolts them all out of their sudden stupor.  “Alex, I—” she tries, but he holds up a hand, silencing her.

 

William watches as he walks over to her, lightly placing his hands on her arms and frowning.  “I love you,” he whispers, “But this hurts, more than you can possibly imagine.”

 

“Alex,” she crumbles, folding into his arms, and he holds her tightly, “Alex, I… I don’t even know what to say.  I’m so sorry.  I love you.”

 

“I know.  I’m not going to leave you, but we need to talk about this, to talk about us.  Okay?”  He pushes her away carefully, holding her at arms’ length.  “Alright?”  When she nods, he kisses her forehead, and she smiles.

 

And then she looks over at William, but he doesn’t catch her glance because he’s searching in his pockets until he finally finds his Thunderbolt.

 

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, sliding down the bar to answer the call, “Hello?”  He can’t even believe he’s calling.

 

“Are you okay?” Brendon asks tentatively.

 

“I love you,” he gasps out, and there’s silence.  He gets up off the stool and walks toward the door, and they just allow it, not even watching him leave.  “Brendon, I love you, and I want the whole world to know.  I… I’m going to talk to someone,” he finally admits, and he grimaces at Brendon’s sharp intake of breath, “I need to.  Gabe fucked me up so bad, and I’m afraid to be loved by you.  I understand if you don’t want to do this anymore, if you can’t, but I love you, and I want every fucking person to know how happy you make me.  Because you do, Bren, you make me happier than I’ve ever been.  I feel so safe and loved when I’m with you, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.  I just… I… Bren, I’m—”

 

“I love you, too,” Brendon cuts him off, “Do you want me to come pick you up?”

 

“Please.  And then can we snuggle the rest of the day away?”

 

“Of course, baby.  After you ask me to be your boyfriend.”

 

“I hope you say yes.”

 

He’s smiling, and he can’t help it.  He’s so in love.

**Author's Note:**

> There are many interesting little behind-the-scenes things about this story. For one, I was primarily listening to Cobra Starship while I wrote this, funnily enough. I dunno, it just happened. Another, wow. I never meant to put that much Miley in it. It just sort of happened, but I guess, well, that’s really how it was supposed to be. I mean, just look at the summary, ha. And, lastly, I LOVE THIS PAIRING. Really, I love any pairing that involves Beckett because, I mean, have you seen the man? He’s fucking breathtaking and all things wonderful. I want to do a William/Alex DeLeon. Or I want someone to write one and then dedicate it to me so I can enjoy the beauty. Anyway, that’s all! Hope you enjoyed my insanity, :D


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